Kindness, What is Kindness?
by lovinthor
Summary: 5 times the Winter Soldier is shown the good in the world. Post Cap 2. Bucky feels


1.

It's been hours since the Winter Soldier left the man in the uniform on the banks of the river. He's made it out of the woods and into the city, careful to keep hidden so no one sees his metal arm. The sun is dipping below the clouds, and the temperature drops lower with each passing minute. His uniform is still damp. He shivers.

"Hey, are you alright?"

He whirls, instinctively grabbing for the knife strapped to his thigh and throwing the metal arm behind his back. The man in front of him is middle aged, wearing a denim jacket and jeans. Thankfully, it was dark enough so the man didn't notice the metal arm.

"Saw you come out from the woods. Look like you been through hell. Need to get the police?"

He doesn't answer. His eyes scan the man, searching for any potential threat, any sign that he might have a weapon on him. A small part of his brain screams that he should just kill him, eliminate anyone who sees him and might know his whereabouts.

The man stares at him a minute longer, taking in his wet clothes, then peels the jacket he's wearing off his shoulders. "Look, you're going to freeze tonight if you stand around like that." He hands over the jacket.

The Winter Soldier stares, not knowing what to make of this. He takes the jacket, wondering why the man would simply give him this, not expecting anything in return, not asking him to harm someone. Not demanding his memories he erased.

The man looks at him quizzically a moment longer, says, "well, take care", then leaves. He stands there a minute, and then puts on the jacket, still not able to comprehend what the man had just done for him. He doesn't have a word for it.

The jacket takes away the chill of the night air.

2.

He sneaks past the guards at the Smithsonian, desperate for answers. The place is crowded, and he avoids the people as though they were death itself. He stares at the murals, the man in the uniform fighting alongside a man who looks just like him.

_Bucky Barnes._

"_I'm with you till the end of the line!"_

He grits his teeth, fighting back the urge to scream and punch the wall. That man wasn't him anymore. He wasn't even sure that man had really existed. All that was left was this empty shell.

"Excuse me, sir."

He turns to see a security guard eyeing him suspiciously. "Did you pay the admission fee when you walked in here?"

He stares, feeling cornered, wondering if he should just drag the guard behind a wall and strangle him. But there would be two many people for that.

The guard takes in his dirty clothes and unwashed hair, then sighs. "Homeless, huh? Trying to get out of the weather? Well, I'll let it slide just this once, but if it happens again you'll be arrested, got it?"

He nods, and the guard walks away. He didn't hit or scream at him, he just walked away. The soldier stands there, still trying to comprehend this strange new human emotion he's experiencing. He still doesn't have a word for it.

He turns back to the picture of the man.

_James Buchanan Barnes._

3.

It's about three days living on the streets when the Winter Soldier's body catches up to him.

He waits in the shadows, watching hungrily as the diner worker dumps the scraps from the dinner rush in the dumpster. He can't remember the last time he ate. As the worker walks inside and the door shuts, he creeps closer, mouth watering, intending to devour what scraps of food he can find.

He has his head partly in the dumpster and a half-eaten sandwich in his hand when he feels someone tap his shoulder.

It's an elderly woman, a smile on her face, holding a wrapped package. "Hello, I own this diner here. I've seen you around the alleys lately. You look like you could use a good meal. Here."

She holds out the package, stained with grease and smelling of grilled meat. He takes it, shaking, partly due to hunger and partly due to confusion. His still doesn't understand why people are simply giving him things and not expecting him to kill anyone or do something in return. Deep down he knows there's something he should say to this woman, but he can't find the words. He simply nods.

When the woman goes back inside the diner he finds an alley and unwraps the package. A burger with fries. He fills his stomach; still contemplating this strange new pattern and new side to people he didn't know existed.

4.

He stumbles on the homeless shelter completely by accident, wandering the streets aimlessly. By how his hair has grown long and shaggy, falling in greasy waves down his shoulders. His face and clothes are covered in dirt, and he probably smells like something that's been dead for weeks.

That doesn't bother the woman there. She simply smiles at him and points out the direction of the showers, handing him a change of clothes. He does not question this, finding it's easier to not speak or react at all the mask the endless confusion.

After he emerges from the shower the woman hands him a bowl of soup. By now the desire to know is consuming him, pounding in his head and overwhelming his thoughts.

"Why do you do this?" He asks the woman. His voice comes out ragged from disuse. But he had to know.

The woman looks at him, confused. "Because it's the right thing to do. You need help. That's called kindness."

_Kindness. _So that's what it's called, he thinks. Then suddenly, he feels the words he was never able the remember swell in his throat, come out his lips.

"Thank you."

5.

He spends some time at the shelter, accepting the food and showers, chewing on this new feeling. All he's known for the past seventy years has been murder and pain. But this thing called kindness filled him with strange, new emotions that he couldn't make sense of.

He sees the woman coming toward him with a blanket. Smiling, she hands it to him. "It's gonna be a cold one tonight, you should probably bundle up."

The feelings bubble up inside him again. For the first time in years, he feels the beginnings of a smile tug at his lips. "Thank you."

He leaves, the blanket wrapped around him. For the first time, he looks at the people and doesn't see murder and death.

Kindness. He liked that feeling.


End file.
